


soft

by RosebudBasilton



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Body Positivity, Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, chapter 62, soft in general, soft tummies ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 18:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11538306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosebudBasilton/pseuds/RosebudBasilton
Summary: We're just human, even when we're not. We're soft, and we're strong, and it's a part of who we are.





	soft

**Author's Note:**

> soft tummy appreciation for baz because i am so so happy that rainbow has mentioned this, and feel its important that we accept that these are not completely archetypal characters - both mentally and physically.
> 
> also can we pls love soft tums

Simon lived seven long years trapped in the same circling path, worrying over a boy who had edges so sharp and a life so perfectly dramatic, that he had no clue what to think on the night it was all stripped away. Pages flew from the spine of the book he’d catalogued Baz in, burning in the fire that flickered ever closer to two very flammable, precariously fragile boys. He’d forgotten, then, what he’d meant all those times he’d thoughtlessly wished Baz would die, that he’d stake himself through Simon’s sword and give them both a rest. 

 

A world without Basilton, it seemed, was a world Simon couldn’t even begin to imagine.

 

After such a flurry and rush of heat; hands; kissing, the two found comfort in front of the fireplace. Vague conversation passed between them, but it was words of nothing, no substance to bind them to each other. The way their hands were so effortlessly laced could only do so much to validate what Simon had felt - what he’d done.

 

Crowley, what had he done?

 

“It’s warm here,” Baz noted.

 

“You’re in front of a fireplace,” Simon retorted. “Pyro.”

 

“Yeah, but - it’s uncomfortably warm. Give me my hand back for a second.”

 

That was the first time Baz had actually admitted that they were touching. Holding hands.  _ Being intimate _ . Oh, if Simon didn’t swoon from that, well-

 

He had opted for staring at the floor while he had no weight in his hand to keep him in the present. The forest, their kiss, it played like a movie, but they hadn’t kissed again since. Simon wanted to. Desperately. Not just because it felt dangerous to kiss his enemy, a vampire no less, and not just to work out his tangled and twirling feelings. He wanted to kiss Baz, because it’s Baz. 

 

When a cool hand swung slowly to his cheek and brushed it softly, Simon turned to a startling sight. It wasn’t that seeing Baz in just the thin white t-shirt he wore beneath his suit was especially thrilling, just that Simon could see him.  _ Baz.  _ A teenage boy - not some kind of power-puppet being exploited so unfairly.

 

“You okay?” Baz asked, voice hanging in the back of his throat. It sounded a soft kind of husk, one for waking up and having colds -  _ human _ things. 

 

“I forget, sometimes, that we’re more alike than we seem.”

 

“And how is that?”

 

Simon stared some more at Baz’s body, hoping he didn’t look too much like a creep. Baz looked all too amused.

 

And then-

 

“I always thought you’d be ripped, six-pack and everything.”

 

Baz raised an eyebrow and peered down at his tummy, where Simon’s eyes couldn’t look away with any amount of coaxing. The skin there was soft, undefined, even a bit pudgy just above his trousers. “I’m 17, Snow.”

 

“I know, but...you always seemed to be so perfect, you know? Smart, attractive, strong-” He counted these off on his fingers, “-and it was so far from _ real.  _ But you’re not perfect - whatever that means - and I forget that we have that in common.”

 

Baz, who hasn’t quite grasped what Simon was trying to say, only looked more confused. “...I’m sorry to disappoint?”

 

“Disappoint? Shut up!” Simon slung one arm over Baz’s torso and dragged his hand to lay on the boy’s tummy, feeling the dough-like skin beneath his hand. His cheek lay against Baz’s shoulder. “This is, well...this is perfect. You redefine perfect. To me, at least.”

 

He knew it might have sounded intense, but flirting or not, it was true - mostly. Baz was always like diamonds in jeweller windows; cut so precisely, displayed in such flattering light, and Simon had been window shopping for years trying to compare himself. But Baz and his soft tummy, his insecurities, his destruction and his faulty morals - the shop window was everything he wanted the world to see. He was cut from something just as misshapen as the rest of us.

 

“Well, good,” Baz replied, smiling and hiding the blush on his cheeks (doing nothing to conceal the scarlet creeping up his neck). “I’m not giving up chocolate biscuits to impress a boy.”


End file.
